


Drops of Jupiter

by iluvdanimal



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: F/M, Gen, One Shot Collection, Probably Not Quite Right But Close
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4954933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iluvdanimal/pseuds/iluvdanimal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one- and two-shots (starting with a two-shot).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning at the End, Pt 1/2

**Author's Note:**

> We begin, of course, at the end.
> 
> In most of the timelines I've seen, the understanding is that once Balem has been (presumably) dispatched and Jupiter and Caine hitch a ride home with Captain Tsing, Jupiter gets her family situated, they all go to sleep, and she is up and ready to work the next day. I see two things out of whack with that - one is that Caine couldn't possibly have his wings already (I know it's Space but like, it's all intertwined with his nervous system and that has to take a while, plus I imagine the Legion isn't immune to space!bureaucracy), and also, Jupes needs some time to decompress. So, I gave her some.

It had only been a handful of hours since they'd safely arrived at Earth, leaving the Jupiter Refinery – and Balem Abrasax – burning. Keepers had restored Vassily's house in their absence, and Jupiter's family was sleeping peacefully in beds they wouldn't remember getting into. Jupiter herself, however, was wound tighter than a spring and though she'd taken a liking to Captain Tsing, she wanted no part of remaining in space.

Stinger humbly offered his farmhouse, not for the world expecting the kiss of gratitude she laid on his cheek when she proclaimed it the best idea she'd heard in a while. She was still well within her rights to have him incarcerated, or worse. Instead she left a note for her mother explaining she'd be spending the weekend at a friend's house, and that she'd call in the morning.

Kiza was sleeping when they arrived, and was only encouraged to stay in her bed by Jupiter herself. She insisted that Stinger get her Majesty something to eat, which was the second best idea Jupiter had heard in a while – she'd just realized she was starving.

She and Caine sat down with Stinger at his kitchen table. Stinger apologized for the meagerness of their meal, but Jupiter thought the hummus spread over crusty bread and array of vegetables were the most delicious things she'd ever put in her mouth.

They ate in silence, which didn't seem to bother Jupiter much. Caine kept a watchful eye on her; Stinger eyed them both. He wondered how long it would take Jupiter to notice that Caine wouldn't eat before he knew she had; wouldn't speak until she started the conversation. He wondered if Caine would ever be clear that these habits of deference had nothing to do with her royal status.

Stinger knew he probably shouldn't start a conversation either, but figured that at this point in Jupiter's galactic education, she wouldn't know he was being rude. “Are you all right, your Majesty?”

She sighed and sat back against the chair, letting her hand, with a carrot stick in it, rest in her lap. “I'm just . . . my head's just swimming, you know?” She looked up at Stinger, her eyes narrowing a moment. “Just. So much.”

“I can understand how you'd be overwhelmed. Even without your whole family trying to kill you.”

“Well – I mean, it's that,” she admitted, and focused at a point somewhere over Stinger's shoulder for a moment. Briefly she considered objecting to Stinger's description of the Abrasaxes as her family, but let it go. “It's also . . . I just have _sooo_ many questions. You know?” She met his eyes then, and took a bite of the carrot stick.

“I'm sure you'll have plenty of willing candidates for advocates and tutors,” said Stinger, “but in the meantime, you _are_ sitting at a table with two reasonably intelligent Legionnaires.”

Jupiter smiled a little as she set what remained of the carrot stick down. She really hadn't eaten much, but was no longer interested in food – she wasn't sure whether it was because she was full, or if the stress was finally catching up to her. “Okay. But don't sugar-coat anything, all right?” She shifted her gaze to direct her request particularly at Caine, who nodded.

“How old are you?” was her first question.

Caine directed his eyes toward Stinger, deferring to him first. Stinger looked slightly uncomfortable.

“About a hundred and twenty, I suppose. A little more, maybe.” He shrugged. “Splices don't exactly have birthdays.”

Jupiter's eyes went wide; she floundered a little before replying, “Oh.” Then she turned to Caine. “And . . . you're . . . what?”

“Eighty-something, I think.”

“So . . . the RegeneX . . . it works-” Jupiter cut herself off – _it works on Splices?_ had been her question – as her heart rate increased a little. She didn't know why she needed to ask; she'd watched them use it the first time she'd set foot in this house. “I mean – you use it, just like . . . just like _they_ do.”

There was no mistaking who she meant by “they.”

“Some of us,” said Stinger, “are . . . _allowed_ to use it. It's too costly for a Splice to have, beyond necessary medical treatment. But those deemed valuable enough are given it. It was part of my wages, when I was a Legionnaire. The Aegis gives me a supply of it now, but most of it is for first aid. I've spared every little bit for Kiza.”

Jupiter furrowed her brow and tilted her head. “So – about that. What's the bug? How sick is she?”

Stinger looked away; Caine wondered briefly if the reason it was too much for Stinger to discuss was worry over his daughter's health, or lingering guilt over his betrayal. “The bug is a generic term for defective genomgineering that primarily impacts the immune system,” he explained, pleased when Jupiter's concerned and curious eyes met his. “Splices who are affected can get a recode to resolve it temporarily, but it never goes away. Kiza's maybe twenty-five years old; she'll need another recode in twenty or thirty years.”

“Has she ever had a recode before?”

Here, Caine looked to Stinger. “No,” replied the older man. “It's hard to diagnose; we weren't sure that's what it was until a few years after we arrived here.”

“Why would that be hard to diagnose?” asked Jupiter. She knew her knowledge of how the universe worked was no where near a level acceptable enough to judge, but this was a stretch. “You can treat open wounds with a spray-can of people juice and stripe the back of someone's head like a bee's ass, but figuring out where DNA engineering went wrong is too hard?”

Caine shifted his gaze from Jupiter to his former commander and back again. “What Stinger means to say-”

“Don't speak for me, wolf-boy.”

“-is that Splices have a hard time getting medical care.” He turned to Stinger. “How did you get Kiza diagnosed?”

“Traveling physician,” he replied. “Bit dodgy, seemed more like he was being chased. Took half of my honey for a two-minute exam.”

Jupiter knew the answer before she opened her mouth to ask, “Why is it so hard?”

“Because it doesn't matter if we're sick,” spat Stinger, but his venom wasn't directed at Jupiter. “We can be replaced. If Kiza had some kind of value to someone. . . .” He shook his head and glared at the darkened kitchen window. “But she doesn't. She's only valuable to me. So.” He swallowed, and was silent.

It was clear enough that Stinger was fighting back emotions and Jupiter could easily guess that talk therapy wasn't something he'd ever experienced before. She shifted her gaze over to Caine to find that he was staring hard at the side of Stinger's striped head.

“Kiza. . . .” he began uneasily. His eyes wandered around the kitchen, and then found Stinger's. “She's. . . . In Deadland . . . she's the only thing I really missed.”

Stinger raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Not your old commander?”

Caine shook his head. “Why would I miss _your_ ugly mug?”

“I got my wings clipped for you.” The venom in that comment was most definitely directed at Caine.

Caine shrugged and considered a slice of red pepper. “I remember,” he said. “I was there.” He'd never really been able to get it out of his head.

Jupiter leaned on the table. “They made you watch?”

Caine shuddered a little at the horror in her tone and would not meet her eyes.

“What Caine saw wasn't that unpleasant,” said Stinger. Jupiter turned to him, instantly wary of the look in his eyes. “I spoke in defense of his crime because I knew they'd kill him if I didn't. I counted on a demotion; I didn't think they'd take the wings. But they did – almost respectfully. Disconnected the nerves all at once – that was painful. Then a chop, and they were gone.”

Caine's eyes were closed now, his head hoovering over his folded hands on the table. If Jupiter had been able to see his face she'd have seen a sheen of sweat on skin paler than usual.

“Lieutenant Wise wasn't so lucky. But that was my real punishment, wasn't it?”

“Shut up, Stinger.”

Jupiter had questions about that, too, but was too tired to follow through with that line of thought before the older man continued. “You damn well _should have_ missed Kiza. She looked up to you like an elder brother. She _cried_ for you.”

“Shut _up_ , Stinger.” This time the words were more earnest, more pleading. Jupiter couldn't help but to reach out a hand and rest it on his bicep.

He seemed to calm at her touch, his shoulders drooping and his head connecting with his hands, still folded on the table. When he finally lifted his head the sweat was still there, but he wasn't quite so pale any more.

“One of you is going to have to suck it up one day – _soon_ – and tell me about the biting incident,” she declared. “If I've learned _anything_ these past few days, I've learned that I need security, and if I can't trust _you two_ idiots, I may as well hand Earth over to Kalique and end it right now.”

Stinger chuckled humorlessly. “Well, _he_ doesn't remember, and I only know what I was told, which isn't much. I'll wager your Majesty can find more information than I could right now.”

Jupiter would probably not have asked if she were well-rested. “Was it Balem?”

Caine finally glanced at her, though it was brief. “If I'd bit Balem – or _any_ of the Abrasaxes – every Splice in the unit would be dead,” he replied. “The Entitled wasn't of much importance, and both of us were made examples of. It doesn't matter how high in the ranks of any organization a Splice gets. We're commodities; we can be replaced.”

A flare of anger surged up in Jupiter, and she shot up from her chair as she set to putting things on the table away aggressively. “Fucking barbaric,” she spat. “All of these advancements and _this_ is what you've managed to do with society? Jesus fucking Christ.”

Caine stilled her, standing to place his hands on hers. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice rumbling low in his throat, “please.” She kept her scowl firmly in place, but looked up at him. “Stinger can clean his own kitchen.” Without moving his eyes from Jupiter's, Caine took the little plastic container of hummus from her fingers and handed it in Stinger's general direction.

Stinger took it with a faint buzz of irritation, and snapped the lid on it. Jupiter sat back down at the table with a thud.

“Honestly. Where is the Federation? Where is the Star-Trek-level Utopia?” Then she looked up at the two men putting the vegetables away. “And why aren't _you two_ more angry about this shit?”

Caine and Stinger exchanged looks; the younger scooped up the items from the table and took them over to the refrigerator while the older sat back down. “Outrage from a Splice means nothing, your Majesty,” said Stinger. “We're engineered to obey; conditioned to believe that pure humans are our betters. Now, I've lived long enough, seen enough from the Entitled, that I know that's just not true. But I've also lived long enough to know that a Splice should never question that. It's just how the universe works.”

Jupiter studied Stinger's face a long moment, shifting her eyes over to Caine's when he rejoined them at the table. “How human are you?” she asked quietly.

“Mostly,” replied Caine. “It can vary – you saw all kinds of extremes on Orous, and on Captain Tsing's ship. But even in the most extreme cases, the percentage of non-human DNA in any splice is minimal. My auditory, olfactory, and optical senses are all enhanced with wolf-like DNA. My less desirable traits – the albinism, among other things – they call a miscalculation. It's what happens when they don't accurately predict what the human and non-human DNA will do when put together in the same body. The teeth and pointed ears are mostly cosmetic in nature.”

Jupiter gestured lazily in Stinger's direction. “Like the striped head.”

Stinger leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Splicers usually have more than just their mark to distinguish their work – they tend to put their own style into their product.”

“ _Product_?” It came out as a sneer; Jupiter's eyes were narrowed and she scowled at Stinger.

“Your Majesty asked us not to sugar-coat answers.”

She sighed. “Okay. I did.” She looked away for a moment, contemplating his answer. “Well, what about other characteristics? Like – the kinds of food you like. Or what you find attractive. Are those . . . you know . . . engineered?”

“Anything can be engineered in any splice,” replied Stinger. “But there's really no point in engineering a soldier to like apples or flowers. The attention is placed on senses and physical attributes – height, bone structure, musculature.” He shrugged. “Caine turned out all wrong, but you'd only know that if you read his records. Most of the time, it only matters for sale price.”

“Unless you completely lose your shit and bite someone.”

Jupiter watched Stinger shoot Caine a dark look; she shifted her eyes over to Caine to see that he was unmoved. She also saw the fatigue in his face – the two of them had to be as exhausted as she was.

“You know . . . maybe it's just time for bed,” she suggested. “We're all owly. I still feel tense but maybe I can sleep, if it's dark. And you two have to be tired.”

“I'll make up a bed for you,” said Stinger, and they all rose. “Caine, you sleep on the couch. I'll take first watch.”

Caine was silent a beat longer than necessary; when Jupiter looked over at him, she didn't really expect the intense look on his face. It was easy enough to imagine that he'd been by himself for so long he wasn't used to the order; whether he took offense or took comfort in it, Jupiter couldn't tell.

“Take care of Kiza,” Caine said, and his voice sounded tight. “I can hear her wheezing, you'll want to wake her in a few hours. I'll take watch.”

Stinger nodded, and squeezed Caine's upper arm. Then he tilted his head in the general direction of the stairway, and they followed.

 

* * *

 

 

Just as Jupiter had only realized she was hungry when Stinger presented her with food, she only realized how tired she was when presented with the bed he'd hastily prepared. The room was small and shabby, but it looked so cozy that Jupiter was sure she could crawl under the covers and fall asleep instantly.

Stinger presented her with a nightgown and robe. “They're Kiza's,” he said. “She can get you something fresh to wear in the morning, I'm sure. But I hope this'll do for now.”

She smiled and thanked him, and stifled a yawn as she showed her the bathroom.

When she returned, the robe belt tied tightly around her waist, she paused before she entered the room. Caine was standing there, his hands folded in front of him. “Safe to go in, I assume?” she asked with a smirk.

“Yes, your Majesty,” he replied. “Good night.”

She took a few steps closer. “Where are you going to sleep?” she asked.

“On the couch,” he replied. “Once Stinger gets some rest, and makes sure Kiza's all right, he'll take over.”

She furrowed her brow. “Is there really a threat right now?” she asked. “Captain Tsing is still in orbit, isn't she?”

He conceded that was true, but held his ground. “Threats can come from anywhere, Jupiter,” he said quietly. “Balem could have had any number of agents planted close by. The Aegis will have their eye on you, but their technology isn't fool-proof.” He swallowed. “I know. I've fooled it.”

She nodded, her brow still furrowed. “Okay. But – you need some sleep.”

He shook his head, resolute. “I'll be fine; I promise. I've gone much longer without sleep.”

“All right. When Stinger comes to relieve you, though. . . .” She looked over his shoulder into the bedroom, her eyebrow raised ever so slightly. “You don't have to sleep on the couch. That bed looks plenty big to me.”

He caught the glimmer in her eyes and lowered his chin a little. “Your Majesty is very generous,” he said. “I'll take it under advisement.”

“How about a good-night kiss in the meantime?”

One corner of Caine's mouth curled up slightly, and he drew in a deep breath through his nostrils. The tips of his fingers whispered across her left cheek, and then he cradled her head in his hand as he leaned down and pressed his lips gently to hers.

He let her lead – he'd always let her lead – and when she set a leisurely pace he was happy to follow and wind his fingers in her silken hair. She rocked up on her tiptoes and pressed her body close to his, and he wrapped his left arm around her waist in support. It was a long, slow, affectionate kiss – a counterpoint, almost, to their first, which had been passionate and frenzied and of life-or-death importance. He relished her warm, wet mouth, felt every centimeter of her slick tongue as it caressed his, devoured the subtle notes of her taste. When she'd had her fill, she set her heels back down and smiled languidly as she opened her eyes.

“Jupiter,” he whispered, his voice low. When he opened his eyes she was reaching for his face, and she pet the soft hair of his beard. “Good night.”

She pecked his lips softly one last time. “Good night,” she said, and before she could walk away he drew another full breath in through his nostrils. He let her hair cascade from his fingers, and folded his hands again in parade rest. Her cheeks were flushed as she entered the little bedroom and made herself comfortable. The bed creaked and the blankets rustled for a few minutes, but it wasn't long before Caine's sensitive ears heard the deep, slow breathing as his queen fell asleep.


	2. The Beginning at the End, Pt 2/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this with the first chapter, but it wasn't quite right. Hope you enjoy!

She awoke forty five minutes later calling for her mother.

She'd thought, for a torturous moment, that she was still at the refinery; that Balem was cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West; that it was too late for Aleksa and that Nino was next. But then she'd found herself in darkness, surrounded by comfort and softness, and slowly it registered in her fatigue-addled brain that she was at Stinger's farmhouse, in a guest bed, wearing Kiza's nightgown, and next to her, there was an extremely alert Lycantant splice with a deadly glare and a mauler in his hand.

A heartbeat later there was an extremely alert Apid splice next to him. By the gleam in Stinger's eye no one would've guessed that he'd been in a dead sleep five seconds earlier.

“Your Majesty?”

“I'm fine,” she said breathlessly, holding up a hand. Caine seemed to ignore this as he checked the room over. She followed his movements for a moment, and then shook her head. “I'm okay. Just . . . a nightmare, I guess. I'm okay.” And aside from being mortified that she'd woken up calling for her mommy, she was. It had just been a dream, after all.

Caine finished his review of the room, and holstered his weapon. He faced Jupiter and folded his hands behind his back. “Will you be able to go back to sleep?” he asked.

“I'm sure I'll be fine,” she said. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake everyone up."

“We can call Captain Tsing,” offered Stinger. “She's got a medic on board; she could get you something to help. You won't dream, but maybe that's what you need.”

Jupiter shook her head. “No – really, it'll be fine. I'd rather not resort to that unless I have to.” She looked up at the two men in front of her. They stood shoulder to shoulder, alert and ready for anything.

 _Anything in my defense,_ she thought. _Anything to serve me._

She was going to have to figure out how she'd go about deserving that kind of blind loyalty. In the meantime, they needed rest. She could give them that, even if it was just one at a time.

“Go back to bed, Stinger,” she said gently. “I'll be all right.”

“If you're sure.”

She nodded. “I'm good.” To prove it, she snuggled into the bed and closed her eyes. “Good night.”

“Good night, your Majesty,” she heard. It was Stinger's voice, and the light steps from his bare feet came soon after. The heavier trods from Caine's boots came next, and she sat up.

“Caine?”

He turned in one fluid motion. “Yes?”

“Would you stay in here? In the room?”

There was silence, and for a moment Jupiter thought maybe she'd asked too much. But Caine nodded, and he positioned himself further inside the room. “Is right here all right?”

“Yeah,” she said, and nodded. “Yeah, that's good. That's perfect.”

“You're safe,” he told her. “Stinger and I will protect you.”

She smiled softly. “I know.”

* * *

It was another forty minutes before she woke again; this time, Caine was right next to her, his weapon holstered, calming her.

She was shaking, her eyes unfocused, desperately grasping for him.  He shushed her and held her close.  “You’re safe, Jupiter,” he said softly.  “Your family is safe.  You’re at Stinger’s.”

“Caine,” was all she said, a rough whisper against his chest.

He knew, of course, what she was going through – he'd been through it more than once himself. He'd also helped younger soldiers through the stress, but it was different this time. With other soldiers, he could be gruff, like Stinger had been with him; he could let them know they'd need to get used to it; he could run them so ragged they'd sleep from sheer exhaustion. But Jupiter wasn't a soldier, and he wouldn't dare be gruff with her, and he hoped like hell she wouldn't need to get used to such close life-or-death experiences. It was frustrating – it was his job to protect her, but he couldn't protect her from what was going on inside her own head. So instead, he held her tight against him and rubbed her back until the shaking stopped.

“I know it isn't easy,” he whispered at length, “but try to sleep, your Majesty.”

“I don’t _want_ to.” Her voice was raspy and a little angry.  “I don’t _want_ to go to sleep.  I don’t _want_ to watch my mother die again.  I don’t _want_ to be a queen.  I just want my tiny little life cleaning toilets.”

Caine squeezed her, and nuzzled her hair; he could smell the salt of her tears before he felt them pool hot and wet on his chest.  “Listen to the bees,” he suggested.  “The white noise will help.”

She was quiet and still, but the tears continued to roll down her face.  After a few minutes she drew in a deep breath and sighed, and then closed her eyes.

“Will you stay with me?”

“Yes.”   _Forever.  Anywhere you are, whatever you’re doing._

It wasn’t much longer, and she was asleep.

* * *

Three hours later it was dawn, and she was still asleep on his chest.  Caine listened to Stinger rouse himself, check on Kiza, and then shower.  A few minutes later, he passed by Jupiter's open bedroom door and glanced inside.  Caine nodded; all was well.

“More nightmares?”

He nodded again.  “She’s slept soundly for the last few hours.  How’s Kiza?”

“She’s all right,” he replied, and jerked his head in the direction of his own bedroom.  “Go on and get some sleep yourself.  I’ll come get you when I need you.”

As Stinger walked away, Caine closed his eyes.  He’d have loved to lay there with Jupiter and sleep, to let himself languish in her softness and her scent, but it would’ve been entirely inappropriate, particularly in Stinger’s house.  Instead he enjoyed a scant few minutes with his eyes closed in silence, and then carefully extracted himself to walk down the hall and rest.

* * *

Jupiter woke to the scent of coffee a few hours later.  She smiled, thinking of her mother and Nino.  They’d be up already, drinking their morning coffee in the kitchen – very leisurely, as it was Sunday.  They were safe, and would be untroubled by any lingering memories of lizard-men or people-distilling facilities.

She rose and stretched, and scratched at her hair, and remembered that before she'd fallen asleep that last time, Caine had been with her. He'd held her tightly and rubbed her back and spoken softly to her, and she knew she wouldn't have been able to sleep without him. Her eye caught a beehive, nestled in the upper corner of the room on the outside wall, and she smiled again.

_Listen to the bees,_ he'd said.

She walked over to the wall and placed her hand against it. The low-level buzzing intensified around her hand. “Thanks, bees.”

She pulled her robe around her closely, and padded downstairs to the kitchen.  Kiza and Stinger were seated at the table; they both rose when she entered.  Kiza smiled.

“Good morning, your Majesty,” she chirped.  Jupiter noted that her voice was a bit raspy.  “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, once I actually got to sleep,” she said. “Took a few tries, but I got there.”

“I'm glad. I've put your clothes in the wash this morning; they're just drying. Would you like coffee?”

“Oh, gosh – thanks,” said Jupiter with a smile. She felt her cheeks turn pink. “I'd love coffee.”

Stinger gestured to Kiza and Jupiter both to sit down, and retrieved the cup himself. “Do you take sugar, or . . . ?”

“Black,” she said, reaching greedily for the cup. “Thanks.” She breathed in the scent, and took a tentative sip; it was hot and strong and delicious. She sat across from where Kiza stood; the younger woman needed another nudge from her father to actually take her seat.

“Is it to your liking, your Majesty?” asked Kiza as she sat. “Dad likes it strong, but I could make up another pot.”

“It's perfect,” said Jupiter, and she proved it by taking a long sip. “My cousin Vassily's coffee'll put hair on your chest – that's why my mom makes  _ me _ make it in the morning. And it's Jupiter – please, Kiza.”

Kiza blushed and looked over at her father, who gave her an encouraging nod as he drank his own coffee.

“Took the liberty of putting your phone on the charger this morning,” said Stinger when he set down his cup. “You can call your mum from the sitting room, whenever you're ready. We'll stay out of your way.”

“Isn't that where Caine is?” asked Jupiter, gesturing vaguely with her coffee cup.

“No, he's upstairs, in my room – probably on the floor, like the obstinate puppy he is.”

Jupiter made a face. “Why would he be on the floor?” she asked.

“Hierarchy, mostly,” he replied. “He wouldn't presume to take the place of a higher-ranking officer. But he actually does like to sleep on the floor.”

“It's how he slept in the creche,” explained Kiza. “You know, when he was a pup? They were all together in a den, he and his brothers and sister.”

“You mean. . . .” Jupiter froze, and stared at Kiza a moment. “Like, when he was a kid? He slept on the floor when he was a kid? Not in a house or even like an orphanage with a bed?”

“It's not _quite_ so bad as it sounds,” said Stinger, who put on a little smile in an attempt to soften the information. “They were a pack – they were all together, and they had bedding and each other. Humans used to sleep that way, too, once upon a time. Besides if he's sleeping on the floor he feels safe – if he didn't he'd sleep sitting up with the mauler in his hand and one eye open. Or not at all.”

Jupiter nodded and decided to push this particular piece of infuriating information off for another day. She nodded and took another sip of her coffee. “I'm, um . . . I'm gonna go call my mom.” She rose, and so did they, and she waved them back into their seats awkwardly. As she walked away she heard Kiza's voice.

“Well it's not like _he's_ going to tell her, is it?”

Jupiter smiled as she sat down on the threadbare couch, thinking Kiza would be a likely ally in her quest to understand not just the universe at large, but the parts of it that had shaped Caine.

Her conversation with her mother was never going to be anything but weird. From long experience Jupiter knew that her mother would know if she was lying, even if Aleksa didn't have enough evidence to extrapolate the truth. She stuck with omitting details as much as possible, rather than outright lying: Yes, she'd gone to the clinic, but no, she didn't go through with the donation. She'd met someone outside the clinic, which she'd left angry and upset and confused; he'd helped calm her down, and she'd been with him since. Yes, she was with him now; no, she hadn't slept with him – but why was that anyone's business but her own? – yes, she was sorry she'd made everyone worry, and yes, she would be home today.

Yes, she knew that they had to work in the morning.

Yes, at 6am.

Yes.

Yes, Mother!

Shaking her head, she hung up the phone and then pressed it to her head. A week ago she'd have been cursing her mother; today, she was thankful that she had a mother who cared enough to yell at her, and who was alive and whole and healthy. A grin played with her lips, and her eyes prickled with tears.

“I love you, Mama.”

What was left of her coffee had gone cold, but she took the cup with her when she climbed up the stairs.  In the room she’d slept in, Kiza had already made the bed, and the Aegis uniform she'd borrowed from Captain Tsing, along with her unmentionables, were waiting for her, folded on top of the comforter.  A set of towels sat next to it.  Jupiter smiled and laid her phone on top of the tidy pile of clothes, and the nearly-empty cup on the bedside table.

She found what she assumed was Stinger’s room.  It was spartan and yet still managed to be messy; there was little more than a bed and a dresser, but there were stacks of sheaves everywhere. In the corner, Caine was curled up on the floor against the wall.

He looked, almost exactly, like a sleeping dog. He was on top of a blanket, at least, his arms crossed over one another with his head nestled between them. His knees were drawn up, with the top leg crossed over the bottom one.

How could this possibly be comfortable – or comfort _ing_ – at all?  The floor was drafty and dusty; it was also creaky and made of hardwood.  Jupiter took a few steps closer and knelt down so she could shake him and convince him to move to a bed, but she hadn’t quite reached out a hand to touch his arm when she heard him snarl, and then found herself on her back, with that same hand twisted behind her and a scowling Caine above her.

He realized instantly what he’d done, and she was on her feet again with dizzying speed.

“Jupiter – your Majesty – I’m so sorry – please,” he was heaving breaths in ad apologies out.  “Please, your Majesty, forgive me.  I was startled; I’m so sorry.”

She took just a moment to shake her head and get her bearings again, and then noticed that he was on his knees before her, like he fully expected her to behead him.  Stinger, not surprisingly, was in the doorway, having heard the snarl.

“Everything all right?”

“Fine,” she said, still a little wide-eyed as she glanced at Stinger, and then back at Caine.  “I’m fine.  Caine, I’m fine.”

He wouldn’t look up, not even a tiny bit, not even at Stinger.

“What happened?”

“He was asleep and I startled him,” explained Jupiter. 

Stinger smirked a little.  “Never sneak up on a sleeping Skyjacker.”

“Right.  Got that.  Won’t make that mistake again.”

“You're lucky; he's put other Skyjackers through walls for less,” said Stinger with a chuckle. Then Caine did look up at him, but it was only to glare at him for his trouble. Stinger's smirk stayed put. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, and walked away.

Caine was immediately apologizing again, but was still on his knees. “Your Majesty, I’m so sorry-"

She put a hand on his shoulder, meant to comfort. “Caine.  It’s Jupiter.”

He shook his head imploringly. Jupiter tried not to think of his expression as puppy-dog eyes, but was unsuccessful. “Please, your Majesty, let me apologize.”

“You can.  To Jupiter.”  She took a step forward and placed a hand on either side of his head, raising his chin to look at her.  The worry and regret and clear self-reproach in his eyes made her stomach clench.  “My name is Jupiter.”

He opened his mouth, and then closed it.  “I’m so sorry.”

“No,  _ I _ am,” she stressed, and knelt down in front of him.  “I wasn’t thinking.  Stinger told me you like to sleep on the floor, but I didn't listen to him. Besides, you were just under the same kind of stress I was, and you haven’t slept.  And before all this happened you weren’t exactly spending your days on the beach.  I’m sorry I startled you.”

Caine slumped, partially in surrender and partially to make sure Jupiter was still physically above him. “I don't know why I bit that Entitled,” he confessed. “I don't remember it. Stinger wasn't there.” He swallowed, hard. “I don't know if it's true that I just snapped – that I blacked out and lost control – or if there's more to it. But if it is true, and there is something really wrong with me, you can't take any chances. I would happily live the rest of my life in Deadland if it meant you were safe from me.”

Jupiter took his face in her hands. “I am not sending you back there,” she said. “I startled you, and you reacted, and I'm not hurt. It's okay.” She pet his beard, and he looked up at her, and she smiled softly. “We have a lot to learn about each other, I think.”

He nodded gently, but was silent as he searched her eyes.

"We have time,” she whispered. “We have time for everything, Caine.” She leaned in and kissed his forehead.

He breathed deeply and reached up to caress her cheek. “Not enough for me to deserve you.”

She laughed and pulled away just slightly. “Don't be ridiculous – how many times have you saved my life since you met me?”

He smiled back, as much as he could – the corners of his mouth pulled up just slightly, and he drank in her expression. He didn't know if she understood, yet, but he could help her – his life was now inextricably linked with hers. She might be able to go on without him, but he would never be able to. He wasn't ready to say it out loud, wasn't ready to call her his Alpha, but he knew in his very bones that was what she was.

“Jupiter.  Anywhere you are, anything you’re doing . . . as long as you let me be there, too . . . you – you’re giving me what I need to live.”  He swallowed hard and maintained eye contact with her.  “I don’t know if you understand or not – it’s hard to explain.  But me catching you a couple of times is nothing.”   _ You’re everything _ , he wanted to add, but didn’t.

She smiled a little.  “Catching me a couple of times?  I think you over-simplify the situation.”

“If your Majesty says so.”

Now she laughed, and drew his face close to hers to lay a kiss on his lips.  “I say so.”

He helped her up from the floor and brushed the dust off of Kiza’s robe.  “What will your Majesty be doing today?”

“Actually,” she said, gathering her thoughts again now that the minor kerfuffle was over, “I want to go home.  I just talked to my mom; they’re all fine.  Mad at me a little, for not contacting them over these last few days.  I just said I was upset and angry about what happened at the clinic.”

Caine shrugged.  “It’s not really a lie.”

“It omits a whole bunch of truth,” she said.  “But it’s about all I can say, and everyone will forget about it by dinnertime.”

He nodded once.  “We’ll get you home, then,” he replied.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be escorting your Majesty home.  And then I’m sure Stinger will put me to work.  There’ll be no Keepers stopping by.”

Jupiter reached for his hand and squeezed tightly when she caught it. “And then sleep?”

“Yes.” He reached up to caress her face with the backs of his fingers, and couldn't help wondering what it would be like to sleep next to Jupiter.

She smiled. “And then what?”

“Kiza's recode. And wings,” he said. “Stinger's, then mine. And in between, more sleep. Maybe with a partner.”

“I'm sure that can be arranged,” she replied, and leaned in to kiss him.


	3. Eyeliner, Brothels, and Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jupiter and Caine start to get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be porn - I really did - but it's not.

“Okay, I have your drink.”

Jupiter sat down next to Caine at a little table in the back corner of a neighborhood bar. Aleksa had seemed almost relieved when her daughter said she was going – all at once, after supper on Friday night. She'd seen such a drastic change in Jupiter in the last week, she was starting to suspect there was trouble brewing somewhere. But the sudden, flip “Mama! I'm going out!” and subsequent departure was oddly comforting. Something, at least, hadn't changed.

Four blocks away, with an Aegis guard on the roof and another prowling the outside of the little bar, Her Majesty Queen Jupiter set a highball glass and a martini glass down on a wobbly table that, to Jupiter's estimation, hadn't seen a clean washrag in a few days, at least.

“First, a question, if you don't mind.”

Caine tilted his head, his ears twitching under the slouched beanie he wore. “I don't.”

“Why the eyeliner?” 

“Eyeliner?”

Jupiter made a circular gesture with her index finger.  “Yeah.  The black stuff around your eyes.”

Caine just looked back at her for a long minute, and looked a little self-conscious.  “Do you dislike it?”

“No,” Jupiter was quick to reassure him.  “I like it.  It’s just an unusual fashion choice – you know, for someone who doesn’t usually need to make fashion choices.”

He drew a breath, and then explained, “My eyes are very sensitive.  It reduces glare from my light skin.”

Jupiter tilted her head.  “Really?  You get glare off that tiny bit of skin between your eyelashes and eyeball?”

“Not a lot,” he admitted.  “But enough to interfere, especially with bright lights.  That’s why Lycantants have dark skin around their eyes.  Supposed to, anyway.”

“How long have you been wearing it?”

“Since I was a pup,” he replied.  “One day during a training exercise my Alpha threw a fistful of mud at my face – he was mad at me because I’d made noise.  Breathed too hard or something, probably.  Anyway, it got in my eyes but once it was out I could see more clearly.  So then I just kept it on, all the time.” 

There were a few things that bothered Jupiter about his narrative: the fact that he spoke of Lycantants as though he weren't really one of them, and that he didn't think twice about the abuse his alpha had inflicted. But she hadn't seen him in days, and her renewed appreciation for her life, and her new-found purpose in it, didn't erase the fact that cleaning houses was a lot of work, she was tired, and just wanted to be with Caine. So, for the time being, she let the rest go.

“They have eyeliner in the Legion?” Jupiter asked, amused.

He shrugged.  “Camo paint,” he clarified.  “Same thing.”

Jupiter wanted to protest, but knew that by and large, Caine was right.  So instead she chuckled and pushed the shorter glass toward him. “This,” she said, “is a vodka gimlet.”

The Lycantant nodded. “It looks . . . refreshing.”

“It's for you,” she said, and then took a sip of her own drink. “You're off-duty. Drink.”

He tilted his head at her and considered her command. “And what is your Majesty enjoying?”

“A martini,” she replied. “It's vodka, vermouth, and olives. Yours is vodka and lime juice – it's sweeter than mine.”

Caine picked up the glass she'd set in front of him and took a long sniff. “It certainly smells like alcohol,” he remarked. “You should know that alcohol is a toxin; my liver just filters it out.”

Jupiter raised an eyebrow. “You mean you can't get drunk?”

He shook his head. “No. Not on simple grain alcohol, anyway. If your Majesty's aim is to get me intoxicated and have your sordid way with me, you might employ other tactics.”

She laughed. “What about Stinger's honey mead?”

“No idea,” he replied. “He's always been partial to bees, of course, but he's never kept them as pets. No time or place for it while we were in the Legion. The honey and the mead are something he's picked up here on Earth – being a Marshal is, frankly, a boring job.” He reached over and picked up Jupiter's martini glass, and sniffed it a moment before setting it back down. “Have you had any of it?”

“The mead? No,” said Jupiter, as she picked up her glass and sipped from it. “Although, Kiza did indicate that if he offers I might want to politely demur. Not sure what that means.”

Caine chuckled. “I wouldn't call Stinger domestic. There's a reason Kiza does all the cooking.”

Jupiter laughed and sipped her drink again, and when she asked whether Stinger could get drunk it launched Caine into stories about pulling his commander out of bar fights.  She was on her third martini, and he’d only sipped on his gimlet, when he started in on the time he almost had Stinger away from a bar on Orous and someone insulted Kiza.

“I don’t even remember what he said anymore,” said Caine.  “Kiza was only three or four at the time so I don’t think it was terribly threatening, just rude.  Drunk Stinger can find an insult in anything, but I was stone cold sober.  Which helped, since the other guy – some Aegis loudmouth – wasn’t nearly as far gone as Stinger.”

“And did his loudmouth Aegis buddies step in and help?”

Caine smirked.  “No.”  His eyes glimmered a little as he sipped again on the gimlet.  “You don’t insult a Legion commander’s family.  Especially if they’re a Splice, and you’re just Aegis rabble.  Cybernetic implants aside, Splices bred for the Legion are built to  _fight_.  I had Stinger slung over my shoulder, kicking and screaming – he’s safer that way when he’s angry – but as soon as Kiza was brought into it I dropped him, and our whole unit was ready to tear the guy apart.”

She was laughing again.  “Is it messed up to say I think it’s really sweet that you were all fighting for Kiza’s honor?”

Caine felt the tips of his ears go pink.  “Kiza’s always been endearing, especially then.  I’d have cleared the bar for her.”

“Aww,” she purred, and leaned in to kiss his cheek.  “So sweet.”  She downed the last of her martini and set it on the table, and then turned to him with raised eyebrows.  “Vladie tried to trade me for a puppy when I was one.”

“This is the highly intelligent human being who convinced you to sell the royal eggs?”

She nodded as she flagged down the waitress to bring her another cocktail.  “And as soon as my mother let me date he told all his buddies he could set them up with me.  Which I initially thought was nice, but then I realized a lot of Vladie’s buddies are as questionable in the ethics department as Vladie can be.”

“He is a threat to your security,” said Caine, and in the back of Jupiter’s head she lamented the fact that he wasn’t tipsy, too.  “I’ll inform Stinger.”

“No,” she replied.  “He’s fine.  Harmless, really.  And besides, I actually did like a few of his friends.” 

Caine raised his eyebrows.  “Did you?”

“I mean, not for long.  Broken compass, remember?  But one or two were fun.”  The waitress set Jupiter’s martini down; she thanked her and picked it back up almost immediately, thinking back.  “Nick was nice until he tried to convince me to get sticky fingers at some of our clients’ houses.  And Boris was cute, but he almost got me arrested.”

“For what?”  Caine was pleased that he’d managed to keep the growl out of his tone.

Jupiter took a big swallow of her drink, mischief sparkling in her eyes.  “Fornicating in public,” she replied, and set the glass down.  “That’s what the officer kept saying, anyway.  But it wasn’t really  _public,_ like everyone could see.  It was just in a public  _place_.”  She paused a moment, and probably wouldn’t have elaborated if she weren’t on her fourth martini.  “A bathroom stall – the ladies – because he was getting very handsy and it had really been a while and he kept telling me how impressive he was and he was not lying.”

Caine took another sip of his gimlet.  “Mr. Bolotnikov and his friends are a threat to your security,” he repeated.

Jupiter laughed.  “Are you jealous, Mr. Wise?”

He tilted his head and pressed his lips together in a way that made Jupiter want to suck on them, completely oblivious to Caine’s bright-red ears.  “Your Majesty is welcome to indulge herself in any manner she chooses.”

Jupiter’s eyebrow shot up, and she scooted closer to Caine.  “I’d like to indulge myself with _you_ ,” she murmured in his ear, and reached up to caress it. 

He leaned into her touch and made a pleased sound that Jupiter would swear with her dying breath was a soft bark.  “I don’t object,” he replied, “but Jupiter, you’re not exactly sober.” She was aroused, certainly – he could smell it vaguely – but not enough to push the issue.

She very pointedly pushed her drink away, and crossed one of her legs over his.  “Tell me,” she said, her voice low, “what is the wildest thing you’ve ever done?”

Caine blushed bright red and looked away. “Jupiter. . . .”

She laughed at him. “Oh – no. No, no, no. Now is not the time to be shy. I just told you all about the bathroom stall.”

He met her eyes. “I've lived a lot longer than you, in a much different world.”

“I know. But I do not have a super-duper splice liver, and as you pointed out I'm not real sober right now, so I probably won't remember.”

“Your Majesty will remember – you're not _quite_ that drunk.”

Jupiter's eyebrow quirked. “Her Majesty is getting impatient.”

He was quiet for a long moment, but relented. “Okay. The wildest thing.” He thought a moment, and then his lips twitched. “I was really, really young,” he began. “Your age, maybe; it was right before I met Stinger. I don't remember where we were, but we'd been fighting for months – constant fighting, for close to a year – and the whole unit was given a 48 hour pass. Most of them stayed at the outpost and drank – we didn't have much access to alcohol and they had barrels of all kinds. The unit was kind of a hodgepodge of Splices, but it was mostly badgers. The way they drink sometimes, you'd think they were always dying of thirst. Anyway, they usually pair off amongst themselves, so I opted to leave the post instead, and went to the closest town.” He cleared his throat. “I hadn't – you know – in a while.”

Jupiter loved that his face turned pink. “Gotten laid?”

Caine's cheeks took on a brighter hue. “Yes, fine – I hadn't gotten laid in a while. On the list of priorities for a Lycantant, liquor – even the kind that'll get you drunk – isn't anywhere as close to the top as sex. Really only food is more important,” he replied, and sipped his drink. “So, I found a house-”

“A house?” she questioned. “You mean – like, a brothel?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, there's usually one or two not far from any Legion outpost.”

“Oh.”

She was surprised, but he pressed on. “Anyway, I picked out a girl and we went upstairs, and one thing led to another – and the next thing I knew it was _two_ girls . . . two butterfly splices, and then an equine splice, and then a fox – I think it was a fox? I'm almost sure there was a tail. And at some point there was some kind of avian splice. I was broke when I left, but it was worth it. Also . . . I might have been a little high. And an hour late.”

He wasn't sure what kind of a reaction to expect from Jupiter, but he was pleased when she laughed.

“You had an orgy with all those girls?”

“Well, the equine splice and the avian splice weren't girls, but . . . yes.” He swallowed the last of his vodka gimlet, and then chuckled. “I polished my CO's boots for two weeks for being high, and cleaned the head for a month for being late.”

He smiled at the memory and set his glass down, and then met Jupiter's rounded eyes. “What?”

“You had sex with a man? Two? Two men?”

He looked over at her, inching closer. Jupiter's heart beat a fraction faster, her pupils were dilated a hair more than they'd been before, her breathing was uneven, and she felt just a shade warmer. He took an exploratory sniff near her collarbone, and couldn't help the frankly wolfish grin from spreading across his face.

Her Majesty was most  _definitely_ aroused.

“Well, to be fair, I don't remember exactly what I did with who,” he said. “There were diffusers everywhere, and everyone had a pipe or a drink, and I certainly partook of all of that. I know I wasn't particular about who I partook of, or who partook of me, based on body parts.”

“No?” Her heartbeat picked up a little more.

He shook his head, and let himself fall into the memory that was apparently giving Jupiter such pleasure. “One of the most incredible things I've ever experienced. Everyone was high, and happy, and open, and respectful . . . it  _was_ wild, but it was also beautiful.”

Jupiter was still gazing at him, and didn't seem inclined to share her thoughts. He tilted his head at her.

“I'm just trying to imagine,” she said, her eyes heavily lidded from the martinis as well as arousal, “you and another dude.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, and wanted to point out that imagining her with another dude did not inspire the same kind of curiosity. He opted for a tease instead. “Are you jealous, your Majesty?”

She leaned forward and laughed, resting her head against his chest. “Kinda,” she decided on, once she'd settled. “I am  _kinda_ jealous of the houseful of people who've seen you naked.”

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in close, sniffing the top of her head. “Neither of us really wants to be here,” he whispered in her ear. “Why don't you pay for your drinks? I have something for you.”

Jupiter was about to ask if what he had for her was in his pants, but was distracted when he reached out to take her martini glass, and downed it in a single gulp.

“That was  _my_ drink!” she protested.

“I know, but I need you sober for this. Let's go for a walk.”

Jupiter acquiesced, and paid for their drinks while Caine informed the prowling Aegis officer of their plans. When she joined him on the street, she was smiling. “I gave her a nice tip,” she said, referring to their waitress. “Not that I usually stiff her, but it feels nice to be generous.”

Caine kissed her, and took her hand in his. “Did you enjoy your drinks?”

“I did.” She started walking up the block, and let him re-direct her the other way. They headed in the direction of Jupiter’s house, and as they went along Jupiter alternately cuddled Caine’s arm and swung their hands between them.  She talked about her week at work, and the dumb things Vladie had said, and the abuse Aleksa had inflicted on him for placing Jupiter in danger.

“I kind of feel bad,” she mused.  “I mean, honestly?  His dumb idea is the reason we met.  The reason the Earth won’t be harvested.”

“That may be true, your Majesty, but it was not his intent.  And I need hardly remind you how close you came – several times – to not surviving your cousin’s dumb idea.”

She tilted her head.  “That’s true.  Umm. . . .”  She stopped walking and looked around.  “Do you know where you're going? Are we safe?”

He grinned.  “You’re always safe with me.”  Her eyes sparked at that, even in the darkness, and he couldn’t resist pressing his lips to hers.

“You sure ‘bout that?” she asked when he pulled away.

"Your Majesty may rest assured that her security detail – on the ground and in orbit – won’t allow you to come to any physical harm.  Any more personal interactions between you and I are, of course, entirely at your discretion.” 

His statement only made her eyes spark more, and she grinned and bit her lower lip.  He leaned in again and rescued it from her teeth, nursing the dents she’d made with his own lips.  “We are safe,” he said when he pulled away.  “And I’m right here.”  He tilted his head slightly to the right, and then took her hand.

They weren’t far from Jupiter’s house, maybe four blocks, so she recognized the building he headed toward.  When she was a child it was the mechanic Vassily used to bring their cars to, but the old man who’d owned it had passed away, and his sons had no interest in the business, so it sat abandoned.

She described her memories to Caine as he led her through the unlocked back door, from the space where the soda machine used to sit to the smiling way the old man, Gregory, would offer her a Dum-Dum.

“It’s like a sucker,” she said to his confused expression.  “I always liked the mystery flavors best.”

“A sucker?”

“Yeah.  Candy – sweets,” she clarified.  His scowl cleared in understanding, and it bothered her to realize that Caine might never have been given sweets as a child.  Rather than spoil the mood by asking, though, she changed the subject.  “What do you have for me?”

He led her back to the shop, which had long been cleared of equipment.  “Your Majesty,” was all Caine said, as he gestured with his hand. Jupiter followed it, and found that in the middle of the dusty concrete floor sat a pair of boots, and on top of them rested a pair of fingerless gloves.

“Why are your boots. . . .” She looked down at Caine's feet, momentarily confused, and then back up at him in surprise. “Oh – are those for  _me_ ?” A wide grin broke out over her face. “You got me flying boots?”

Caine chuckled a little, and nodded. “I thought you might like a pair. And I can teach you to use them.”

With a whoop of delight she squeezed and kissed him, and then let him go to plop herself down on the floor to put the boots on. He helped her navigate them, showed her the Legion and Skyjacker insignia of which he was immensely proud, and once she got the gloves on, he stood her up and held her steady as she activated the boots.

Jupiter didn't manage to maintain any manner of dignity, but she did manage not to fall as they navigated the little space, mostly while she held Caine's hand. It was a little like ice skating, only she had to use her core a lot more than she imagined she would in order to stay upright.

After about a half an hour, she asked him to show her how to shut them off, and he sat down in front of her and removed the boots himself, massaging her feet a little before he put her shoes back on.

“You're tired.”

She nodded, and tilted her head back against the wall that propped her up. “Yeah. I don't want to go home, but I do have to work tomorrow morning. Not until eight, though, so I can sleep in a little.”

He helped her up off the floor, and was caught unawares as she claimed his lips in a sudden kiss. She indulged herself for a while – a good, long while, and let her hands wander: up his ribs to the expanse of his chest, past his sinewy neck to feather her fingers through his clipped hair, and down again to the hard planes of his back. He responded in kind, letting his fingers wind themselves into her hair, and pressing her close.

“Thank you,” she whispered when she broke their kiss. “For tonight, and the boots. They're incredible.” She pecked his chin. “You're incredible.”

Caine said nothing, but smiled his almost-smile at her, and Jupiter didn't know quite what to call that look yet, but she knew she'd never tire of it. Then he kissed her head, and the next thing she knew, she was in his arms for the walk home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Beautiful and Terrible and Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caine gets his wings back.

“Why is it taking so long?”

The synth that served as a medical receptionist smiled at Jupiter. She supposed it was programmed to do that, and that the programming was meant to keep agitated family members calm. But Jupiter was far beyond agitated, and no level of smiling from a robot would correct that.

“Mr. Wise's operation is proceeding as planned. No need to worry, your Majesty.”

Caine had been in surgery almost sixteen hours now. He was getting his wings back, finally – after Kiza's recode, and after Stinger had gotten his own wings, just like he'd asked. He'd been patient and now it was his turn to receive what had been taken from him.

Jupiter had sat with Kiza when Stinger went under the lasers, and that had taken little more than seven hours. Kiza had been a nervous wreck, especially after meeting the surgeon, who'd said right to Kiza that he didn't like working on Splices. Jupiter had to restrain herself mightily as she explained to the surgeon that if Mr. Apini's procedure went any way other than perfectly, there were going to be problems with his practice.

Afterward, she'd found Caine a different surgeon altogether. But maybe that hadn't been such a great idea after all.

Kiza and Stinger both offered to sit with her while Caine was in surgery, but she'd declined. Stinger was still in the throes of putting together a complete security detail and training them properly; Kiza was studying for exams and writing essays for applications to various institutions. Jupiter had decided she'd be fine, and she'd just read as she waited. She had a lot of reading to do.

But now it was sixteen hours later, and there was no word from the surgeon, and there was no newly-winged Caine.

And Jupiter had no more patience for sitting, or reading, or waiting. So she paced.

She was on her fourth or fifth lap of the room when Kiza and Stinger walked in, all smiles that melted when they saw her agitation.

“He's still in surgery,” she said. “Sixteen and a half hours. Yours took seven. What the hell, Stinger?”

“I'm sure it's fine,” he replied, exchanging a worried look with Kiza. “I'll just go talk to the attendant – give me one moment.”

Jupiter paced back and forth in front of Kiza, who remained silent, while Stinger spoke to the attendant. It was all the same questions she'd asked, all the same responses she'd received, until Stinger made a request.

“Her Majesty, I think, would like to observe.”

All at once Jupiter felt slightly foolish – she'd forgotten she was royalty, which meant she usually just had to ask for what she wanted. It was easy when someone she loved was at risk – when faced with the possibility of a botched operation by a careless surgeon on Stinger, she was quick to pull rank. It didn't occur to her to use the same power to ease her own suffering.

Stinger smiled as he held out a hand to gesture the way through the door with the medical synth. She blushed as she took Kiza's hand and followed.

“All you have to do is ask, Majesty,” he said. She smiled and thanked him.

They were led down a corridor and up a flight of stairs to a little room that overlooked the operating theater. “It may be quite graphic,” said the synth. “Observe with care.” And she (He? It?) left them to do so.

Jupiter took a deep breath and approached the window. Since she hadn't let go of Kiza's hand, the younger girl followed.

It was graphic, but blood had never bothered Jupiter much. Caine was laid out, face-down, on the operating table. There was an incision made from the back of his neck to his tailbone; it looked like his entire spine was exposed. The surgeon was right next to Caine, his gloved hand on Caine's right bicep.

“They have to be very careful,” Stinger said, low and comforting on her left side. “Nerves are a touchy business, you know that. The wings are intertwined with everything, not just the nerves – the skeleton, the musculature. Everything has to be wired precisely, or he won't be able to control them.”

“I just don't understand what's taken this long,” she replied. “Yours didn't take nearly as long.”

“Different surgeon,” said Stinger.

“Different body,” added Kiza. “Which is more to the point, I think.”

Stinger's voice was unexpectedly sharp. “Kiza.”

Jupiter turned a confused face toward him for a moment, and father and daughter exchanged scowls. Then she turned back to the proceedings. “Usually surgeries are quicker and easier on younger bodies,” she said thoughtfully, as she watched the surgeon feed a wire down along Caine's spine. “Why would it take longer – _so_ _much_ longer – on Caine? He's the younger one.”

“Dad.”

“Shut it, Kiza.”

“Dad, if you don't, I will.”

“No, you won't.”

“Dad, she's going to find out anyway. The surgeon will probably brief her.”

Stinger fell silent, and Jupiter's attention was drawn away from the intricate work taking place on Caine to the argument between her chief of security and his little girl, who Jupiter had discovered was just as fierce as her father.

“What am I going to find out?”

Kiza's eyebrows rose as she addressed her father. “D'you want to step out?”

He glared a moment, and then shook his head. He walked a few paces away and sat down.

“Don't blame him,” was the first thing Kiza said. “He doesn't like to think about it. If it were me, I wouldn't either.”

“What is it?”

“When Caine bit – whoever he bit,” she began, “Dad spoke for him. He took part of the blame – you know that part, yeah?”

Jupiter nodded. “Yeah.”

“When they took Dad's wings, they made Caine watch. It's not a pleasant business.”

“They told me that,” replied Jupiter, and then she tilted her head in the direction of the surgery. “I can understand why.”

Kiza drew a breath. “Right. Well, they made Dad watch when they took Caine's. Only, it was worse.”

“Worse?” Jupiter didn't want to know, she really didn't. Her gut clenched in anticipation of hearing what she didn't want, but probably needed, to know.

Kiza put her hand on Jupiter's bicep, knowing she'd be mad. “They took Dad's first. And then-”

“And then they shackled me,” spat Stinger, unexpectedly. “Like the worst kind of criminal, like I was feral, like I'd done what Caine did.” Jupiter and Kiza turned to face him. He leaned forward with his head in his hands. “On my knees, Skyjackers everywhere. Ones I'd hand-picked, ones I'd trained, ones whose lives I'd saved. Pain shooting through my every nerve, Caine's voice begging me to stop, to renounce him, to shut up, still ringin' in my head. And then, he was there, in front of me – Caine – on his knees, muzzled, his face battered, dried Entitled blood still on his chin.”

Jupiter caught his eyes when he looked up. She was transfixed and didn't dare say a word; his gaze was unfocused.

“I'd never seen him look so bloody wretched. He wouldn't look me in the eye, he was so ashamed. Just kept his head down. Kept saying he was sorry – he didn't understand – he didn't know what happened. I told him to shut up. I told him it wasn't so bad. He called me a god damned liar.” Then Stinger chuckled humorlessly. “Turns out he couldn't have been more right.” He shook his head, and put his face in his hands.

Jupiter shifted her eyes back to Kiza, who grasped her hands.

“They tore the wings out of Caine's back with their bare hands,” she said, and tightened her grip when Jupiter gasped in horror. “They didn't disconnect anything; they didn't even use proper tools, just an axe. Dad said he'd never seen anything like it, never heard of such a thing.”

“Jesus.” Jupiter squeezed her eyes shut and was silent for a long moment, trying to focus her thoughts on Caine _now_ , the fact that he was well _now_ , he was healthy _now_ and getting his wings _now_ with the help of a competent, fairly-minded surgeon. But still. . . . “And they made Stinger watch?”

Kiza nodded. “Caine's got a lot of damage to repair. That's why it's takin' so long.”

“I really don't understand,” said Jupiter. “Why did they act so quickly – why doesn't Caine remember? He was what, seventy, when it happened? If nothing like that had ever happened before, why would he have snapped, all of a sudden?”

Kiza raised an eyebrow. “Conveniently when he had no comrades nearby? I don't know,” she said. “It's a dodgy business, no mistake. But your Majesty . . . Caine is a Splice. We haven't got rights. It's a bit like how Terrsies deal with rabid dogs – no one cares why, they just get put down.”

Jupiter shook her head at Kiza's words, and turned to watch as the surgeon continued to work on Caine. “That's what he thinks o himself, on top of it,” she whispered. “It just breaks my heart. Does no one understand?”

“ _You_ do,” Kiza replied, and tears welled in her eyes for a moment. “ _You do_ , and that's – I don't know how to tell you what that is . . . how much it means, your Majesty.”

Jupiter pulled the younger girl in for a hug. Hearing Caine's voice whisper the honorific was its own pleasure, but lately, when Kiza or Stinger said it, it was becoming something else entirely. Certainly there was respect there, but it was far beyond that. It was like fealty in her ears, filling her heart with purpose upon each utterance.

“I don't know what I can do,” she whispered. “I never dreamed the universe was so beautiful and terrible all at once.”

“You have to be like the universe,” said Stinger as he approached once more. “You've got to figure out how to stay beautiful when you need to be terrible . . . in the right measures, at the right time.” He reached for Kiza when Jupiter released her, and gave her a grateful squeeze.

Jupiter nodded and turned back to Caine's surgery. “I can't do it without him,” she said, her fingers tapping against her lips. Then she turned to look at Stinger, whose eyes were closed as he kissed his daughter's head. “Or the two of you.”

Stinger smiled and pulled Jupiter in with his right arm as he held Kiza with his left. “Shall we have a seat, your Majesty? Seems like it'll be a while. I could get you a cup of coffee.”

Jupiter smiled and thanked him, and took a seat with Kiza to wait.

 

* * *

Roughly four hours later, Stinger was shaking her shoulder gently. Despite the coffee, she'd dozed against Kiza's side.

“I apologize for waking you, your Majesty, but you'll want to see this.”

Jupiter sat upright, jostling Kiza in the process. “Is everything okay?” Stinger gave her the tiniest of grins, and nodded. She rose and followed his gaze to the window that looked out over the operating theater. When she reached it, she smiled.

Caine was sitting upright on the operating table, facing the surgeon. His back was toward her, allowing her to see, for the first time, the wings he'd just been given. They were unfurled, at rest against his back, black feathers mottled with brown, and an iridescent shine to them. Even in the harsh light of the operating theater, they were beautiful.

“Oh my god.” Jupiter's eyes filled, and she splayed a hand against the glass.

“Looks normal again,” commented Kiza, who was smiling next to Jupiter. “Normal as any splice looks, anyway.”

Jupiter giggled, and marveled a little at the fact that she couldn't see any sign of an incision, despite having seen Caine's spine not five hours ago. “He's okay,” she whispered, mostly to herself, mostly to shove the thoughts of _because people juice_ out of her head. She watched as the surgeon led him through a series of exercises, presumably meant to ensure that the wings, and everything else, were in working order. He moved his neck back and forth, lifted his arms to the side and above his head, and then got shakily to his feet.

He walked a few paces forward, and then turned to walk left and right. He stood one one leg, and then the other, and despite Caine appearing a little more pale than usual, and a little wobbly, Jupiter breathed a sigh of relief.

Then the surgeon caught her watching, and smiled up at her with a nod. He said a few words to Caine, who promptly turned around. With a weary smile, he stretched his wings out slowly to show her his new limbs.

The span was impressive, nearly filling the operating theater, and Jupiter had to laugh a little as he knocked a cart full of medical implements astray, which sent one of the nurses running to catch it before it tipped over. But she admired the wings as he apologized to the nurse, and blew him a kiss, and Kiza tugged on her arm to encourage her to come back down to the waiting room.

It was only a few minutes later when the Dr. Monk, the surgeon, led Caine out. He was fully dressed and walking on his own, which confused Jupiter – shouldn't he be in a wheelchair, at least, after all of that pulling and re-wiring? He was also still pale and clearly tired, but smiled his usual not-quite-a-smile at her.

“They're gorgeous,” was the first thing she said when he released her from their embrace. “How do you feel?”

“Sore,” he replied, and then nodded toward Dr. Monk. “He did a lot of poking around.”

“Your Majesty,” said the surgeon with a nod so deep it looked like a bow. “The procedure went very smoothly. I hope you are pleased with the results?”

Jupiter liked Dr. Monk, she really did, but his expectation that it was her pleasure sought in a twenty-hour surgery on Caine annoyed her. “I'm happy he's doing well,” she replied. “But they're not my wings; he didn't get them for me.” She turned back to Caine expectantly.

“Oh yes! I'm sorry, I quite forgot. Haven't done work for the Legion before, you know. Mr. Wise seems to be doing quite well.”

She tipped her head at Dr. Monk. “So should we maybe ask him, then?”

“I'm good,” volunteered Caine, and it was apparent that despite his amusement at Jupiter's agitation, he was done in. “Just need a nap.”

“Well – you go on and get one, then,” said Dr. Monk. “You'll need to rest for a full 48 hours before your first flight.”

Caine growled under his breath a little, but thanked the doctor all the same.

“Don't you think it's best if he just stays overnight?” asked Jupiter of Dr. Monk. “It just seems like such major surgery – I mean, you were in there for more than 20 hours.”

Dr. Monk's otherwise jovial face softened a little, and he approached Jupiter. “Your Majesty,” he said quietly, “I was able to bend policy for an Entitled, but I don't think I could break it. You know how to get a hold of me if anything happens – please, don't hesitate.” He walked away whistling.

Jupiter scowled at Caine. “I don't understand-”

Caine just shook his head. “It's enough that he took the time to do it right,” he said. “This is a humans-only surgical facility. No level of righteous indignation, even from an Entitled, will get me even a couch to sleep on in here.”

Jupiter's scowl deepened, and Kiza put her hand on Jupiter's shoulder to help steady her. “Rememer what I said earlier. Now's not the time to be terrible.”

Caine gave Kiza a tiny, appreciative nod, and then turned back to Jupiter. “I promise, I'm just fine.”

He wasn't fine, not perfectly anyway; Jupiter could see the fatigue in his eyes. But Kiza was right; whether it was fair or not, there was no reason to push the issue just now. Caine needed sleep. So she smiled, and nodded, and they left to board the Legion planet jumper, bound for Earth.

Caine was perfectly ready to pull up a hunk of floor and pass out, but Jupiter insisted he wait until she prepared one of the very utilitarian bunks for him. She made it as comfortable as she could, as quickly as she could, and Stinger was just getting ready to break orbit when she tucked him in, fully dressed except his boots. He asked if she'd stay with him, and of course she couldn't say no, so she slipped her own boots off and crawled in beside him. He wrapped his arms around her, and fluttered his wings.

“I cannot _wait_ to fly,” was the last thing he whispered before nodding off, his queen pressed against him, petting his hair. Jupiter smiled and kissed his head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	5. Aleksa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late-night conversation between a mother and her daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short fragment - hope you enjoy.

Her mother was dozing in the living room when she walked in from her date with Caine, her feet tucked up on the couch.

“Jupiter?”

She set her keys and purse down on the table and then, before she sat herself down next to her mother, leaned down and kissed Aleksa's forehead. “Hi, Mama.”

“You're sober.”

Jupiter snorted as she settled into the cushions. “Yeah, I'm sober,” she replied. “So?”

Aleksa looked at her for a long moment. “It's a decent hour.”

Her daughter shrugged, too nonchalant. “We have to work in the morning.”

“Huh.” Aleksa's gaze was appraising and sharp. “You going to tell me who you were with?”

Jupiter cleared her throat. “Mama, I-”

She was stayed by Aleksa's hand taking hers as she sat up and looked at her squarely. “I know you don't like when I pry,” Aleksa conceded. “You're an adult – I understand. It's hard to be a young person and stuck at home. You think I don't notice that you're not happy, but I do. Before the clinic – you were unhappy. Then, the clinic, and you're gone for days, and now you're focused and you work hard and yesterday, I saw you talking to Mikka. Voluntarily.” Jupiter chuckled and looked down at their joined hands, but worry settled into Aleksa's eyes as she stroked the back of her daughter's thumb. “What happened at that clinic, Jupiter?”

Jupiter squeezed her mother's hands, and met her eyes. “Mama,” she said, very carefully, “You always know when I'm lying. Right?”

“Yes – but everyone does, Jupiter. You're terrible liar.”

“Thanks, Mama.” She patted Aleksa's hands and looked away a minute. “The thing is . . . I don't want to lie to you. But a lot – a _lot_ – happened at the clinic, and the next few days. And I'm not ready to tell you all of it.”

Aleksa squeezed her daughter's hands and pulled her a little closer. “Are you in any danger?”

She shook her head. “No. No, I'm safe now, Mama.” She had to stop herself from saying that they were _all_ safe now. “Someone . . . tried to kill me. He thought I was someone I'm not.”

Aleksa sucked in a breath, and then growled a Russian expletive and Vladie's name, and Jupiter had to calm her before she got loud enough to wake the whole house. “Don't be too mad at him, Mama – they'd have found some other way to find me if I hadn't gone to that clinic. He was really bent on – well, getting what he wanted. Anyway, it doesn't matter. The point is, I'm safe now, but for a while . . . I wasn't. Sort of changes your perspective on a lot of things.”

Aleksa sighed and sagged back into the couch. “I'll never let you out of my sight again.”

Jupiter laughed a little. “Oh – god, Mama – no. No,” she said, shaking her head. “I promise that won't solve anything. I'm really safe now. Besides, I . . . sort of . . . have security.”

“Well, I want to have a word with your security. I had no idea where you were tonight, you could've been-”

“No, Mama,” she interrupted patiently. “I'm really fine. I'm good. I was with Caine – he's my security,” she explained.

Aleksa's eyebrow shot up in surprise. “Your date from the other night?”

Jupiter smiled and bit her bottom lip. “Yeah.”

“I see. And what did you and Caine do?”

“Nothing much, really,” replied Jupiter, shrugging. “We had Chinese, and then we went for a walk, back to his place . . . and sort of . . . rollerbladed?”

Her mother's eyebrow shot up. “Is that young-people speak for something you don't want to talk about?”

Jupiter laughed. “No, Mama – _literal_ rollerblading.” Sort of. “It was fun. And just . . . really unexpected.”

“Shouldn't be so unexpected to just spend a nice evening with young man,” replied Aleksa.

“Not something I'm used to, I guess,” admitted Jupiter. She gave a little shrug of the shoulders.

Aleksa pursed her lips in mild annoyance. “I will try not to think about that too much.”

Jupiter straightened up a little. “I don't think I've ever just enjoyed someone's company before,” she mused. “Never felt so completely safe I could just be my weird awkward self. I don't want to screw it up.”

Aleksa shook her head at her daughter. “You just continue to be you – awkward and all. If he doesn't like you the way you are he's not good enough, you understand?”

Jupiter chuckled at her mother again, and nodded. After a pause, she ventured, “It's just – he's different, you know? Complicated.”

“Oh, he's _complicated_?” drawled Aleksa, mildly amused. “You mean like Boris was complicated? Like his criminal record has more than one category of offense, that kind of complicated?”

Jupiter surprised herself with the sudden burst of laughter. “No Mama – he doesn't-” Giggling, she stopped herself from saying he didn't have a record, because technically, he did. “He's a soldier,” she explained when she'd calmed herself. “Umm . . . he used to be, that is. For a long time. Now he does security.”

“Yes, well, soldier or not, you be careful. Remember what I taught you: public places, always have a charged phone, don't go anywhere you don't know someone else. You don't know him, Jupiter.”

“I don't,” she admitted, looking down at their entwined hands and thinking of the growl that came from Caine's throat when she'd startled him out of sleep at Stinger's farmhouse. “I don't know him well. But I want to.” She swallowed. “He saved my life.” More than once, she wanted to add.

Aleksa took a moment to look over her daughter, and her expression softened. She leaned over their entwined hands and kissed Jupiter on the head. “Maybe I should meet Caine. Your _security_.”

Jupiter smiled. “Sure, Mama. Soon,” she promised. Aleksa gave her one last pat on the hand, and they both headed downstairs, where Nino was already snoring away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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